Soulmates
by TheSummerNightingale
Summary: Cupid has always known that the Gryffindor and the Slytherin were meant for each other. He has watched them grow from the very start, waiting in anticipation for the moment that he will finally release the arrow and let it settle in Draco Malfoy's icicle heart.


**Written for QFLC Round 4 - Little League, Ravenclaw Chaser 2 -** _Emotion: Love (forbidden from using the word)_

 _ **Prompts**_ **:**

 _6._ _(quote) 'Your intellect may be confused, but your emotions will never lie to you' - Roger Ebert_

 _11\. (restriction) no dialogue_

 _13\. (word) icicle_

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, I am not a naked baby. Nor do I have wings.

In fact, just about the only thing humans have gotten right about me is that I have the capability to recognize and nurture pure emotion far before others can. You could say that I recognize soulmates.

Some people find their significant other late in life. Some people do not find them at all. I suppose one could blame me for that; I am, after all, the only person this bow and arrow responds to. I am the only person who controls the tides of longing and feeling, and I am the only person who can always recognize soulmates at first glance.

I'll show you.

* * *

It was the year of 1992, and I was drawn to the castle on a breezy September night. I had previously been acquainted with this particular castle. I had, after all, been there when its founders first built its stone walls, for what better example of a pair of soulmates is there but Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin themselves? But my story is not about them. My story is about a pair long after Ravenclaw and Slytherin, centuries after Nicholas and Perenelle, and years after the short but true bond of Lily and James.

As I found myself surrounded by countless riverboats on the Black Lake heading towards the magnificent school, I felt myself drawn to a particular boat. In it were three boys and one girl. The sheath of arrows by my side shook with such passion that I knew, without a doubt, that this was the girl I had come for.

I watched her carefully, and it was easy to keep an eye on her, for she had a large mane of bushy brown hair that stood out in the crowd of eager children. Slipping through the walls of Hogwarts, I followed the girl until all the children stopped outside of the Great Hall. As they did so, I paused beside a group of three boys, one refined and two bulky.

My eyes landed upon the boy with the light blond hair. He had a pointed chin and a sharp look in his eye, and as my arrows again rattled in their sheath more violently than they had for the girl, I realized that if I ever had to shoot my arrow, it would not be her that it would have to land in.

You see? Even then, I knew it was his heart that would be the challenge. Her mind, his heart.

I am perfectly aware of the workings of Hogwarts, so when the children entered the Great Hall and sat on the stool with the Sorting Hat upon their head, I knew precisely the significance of the boy's Slytherin and girl's Gryffindor results.

 _Interesting_ , I mused as the boy smirked and stepped off the stool. From the sea of red and gold, the girl frowned at the way he threw the Hat back to the professor. For a quick moment, I thought of Rowena and Salazar and grimaced. _Quite difficult, as well._

For the past centuries, if I've ever been invited to the first feast of the Hogwarts' school year, I've made a point to stay and chat with the Grey Lady or Bloody Baron.

That particular year I had to leave early, because the arrows in my quiver wouldn't stop vibrating and clattering about. My fingers had already itched to set one in my bow.

* * *

It was clear from the very beginning that I didn't have a place between the two. There was no _space_ to wedge myself between their warring auras, and even if there had been, it would have been a miracle if either could even think to look.

I once watched a battle of theirs (for that was what it was - a battle between two spirits so seemingly different from one another that they couldn't help but clash, but when you looked at them closely, they were really just too similar to exist in the same plane _without_ clashing), and it was quite startling.

They were still young and brash - I repeated this fact to myself under my breath as I watched their auras collide in the air - when I witnessed their fight, and what struck me as interesting was that their exchange was purely verbal.

He shot petty and abusive names at her; she threw witty and sharp comments back. Never once did their hands inch towards their wands, but unfortunately, they more than made up for this with words.

I didn't force myself to stay any longer than I could bear. It would have broken me to stay in a place where it was obvious the two could barely coexist, let alone learn to like each other.

* * *

I sporadically visited the pair at Hogwarts in my spare time for the next four years. In all that time, little changed between the two, and I began to lose hope for them. I questioned the ability of my arrow to pierce the obvious icicle in the boy's heart; I wondered if the girl's mind would ever relax enough to allow my soothing spontaneity to seep into her rigorous studies.

In any case, their situation was utterly hopeless.

I was beginning to think that even if the girl didn't die from all the life-threatening events she got herself into, both would still much _rather_ die than reconcile their souls. It certainly seemed that way, what with their constant bickering and obvious hatred for each other.

I did have one ray of sunlight that I salvaged and coveted, though, hoping my gentle care would nurture it. I don't think it did much good, for the boy never looked at the girl like that again for years, but I like to think that the Yule Ball was a prelude of what was to come.

She looked beautiful that night, more radiant than I had ever seen her. As she stood upon the stage, her periwinkle dress gave the illusion that she was floating when she moved. She was a sight for sore eyes, and she was absolutely stunning.

The entire room was captivated by her; I could feel the waves pulsating as I tentatively tasted the air. Some people were jealous, some were apprehensive, and some were simply too shocked to speak. He was one of them.

I spotted him gaping up at her, his eyes drinking her tamed curls in even as his date yanked him away (quite jealously, I thought). For the first time since the tragedy of the Sorting, something fluttered in my chest, and I reached into my sheath of arrows and fitted one on my silver bow. I pulled it back, I squinted and aimed -

I didn't shoot.

The boy turned away with a scowl on his face, and it was evident he knew he'd betrayed his heart. He tore his hand away from his date, who pouted, and stubbornly ignored the beautiful girl for the rest of the night.

I lowered my bow and simply watched for the rest of the night. As the girl worked herself up over the redheaded boy who was not even her soulmate, I shook my head and slung my bow over my shoulder, leaving the beautifully decorated Great Hall behind. It wasn't time yet.

* * *

I will mention now that I like to make bets with Death, and back then he bet me two miserable souls that the girl would be the first to break.

He was wrong.

* * *

Nobody would have thought it, what with the tradition of arranged marriages that ran through the family, but I had visited Malfoy Manor before; in fact, I had visited it for the boy's own two parents. Mind you, it had barely been long enough to shoot a quick arrow into Lucius's heart as he caressed Narcissa's hair. (The man had always feared me.)

It was 1999 when I entered the manor for the second time. I found the young man I sought standing just outside the drawing room, his hand clenched against the wooden frame of the door.

I had not seen him in half a year, but his face was almost gaunt and devoid of color. His once fierce grey eyes were now dull stone, but perhaps the greatest change in him was the fact that his face was contorted in miserable pain, and he was _feeling_.

For her, I realized. I heard the echoes of her screams as she thrashed on the ground and yet refused to speak; I saw the bravery that he'd seen, and I now saw the grudging respect he felt towards her.

I couldn't bring myself to tap him on the shoulder because I knew it would only confuse him more. He was in a fragile state, and as easy it would have been to sink the tip of my arrow into his heart, I'd grown fond of him. I had watched him and her for seven years now - I thought I owed him time and space.

But even though I didn't touch the arrows by my side, I stayed beside his until he finally let out a tense puff of air and whipped around. I watched him stalk down the hallway and was about to leave when he suddenly stopped.

His head slowly began to turn back towards me. I watched in utter shock as his grey eyes settled over the space where I was standing, as if he knew I was there.

I'll never forget the way he stared at me, squinting with a puzzled expression on his face. He eventually turned when he could not find me, but I was certain it was only because his intellect beckoned him to.

I'd panicked when he'd looked at me, but now I wish I could have stood my ground and stared him back. I would have told him that his emotions hadn't lied to him. I would have placed my hand on his shoulder and whispered her name in his ear.

* * *

 _Her_ realization came months later when she returned to a battered, war-ridden Hogwarts to finish up her schooling and found him in the Astronomy Tower.

I'd hoped fate would bring them together. You see, he hadn't come back to Hogwarts complete his studies. He had just come back to Hogwarts that particular night at Headmistress McGonagall's vague bidding (it hadn't been in my personal interest to find out exactly why she'd wanted him to come), and stopped by the tower on his way back out.

For a terse moment, the two stared at each other through the darkness. She was enormously suspicious of him; he was more apprehensive than anything else, but when they'd gotten past the explanations of each of their presences, both relaxed and she even sat beside him on the ground.

I can tell you what they saw in those moments as they sat side by side that silent night. I can tell you that he saw a shattered chandelier, a raging Fiendfyre, a girl writhing and screaming on the floor. I can tell you that she saw desperation and desolation, a boy with sunken cheeks and a pale face.

But more than that, I can tell you what they felt.

The boy was highly uncomfortable. He inched away from her warmth and half of him wanted nothing more than to lash out at her like he had when he was younger. The other half let her stay because he was curious about her presence, curious why she hadn't yet hexed or insulted him.

She was curious as well. While she felt indifferent towards him, a part of her saw the ways the war had ruined him - his dull eyes and permanent scowl - and _pitied_ him. She no longer felt hatred or even annoyance. She was content to sit beside him and watch his still form out of the corner of her suspicious eye.

She left a quarter of an hour later without another word, but something had shifted within her. She no longer saw him as the spoiled brat who needed others to lift him up and heal his wounds. It was as if she had shed away any evidence that she had known him before; it was as if she had torn a page out of her past and replaced it with a fresh one.

It was as if she was ready to start their relationship anew.

I felt this poignantly the next time their paths crossed in the Three Broomsticks at Hogsmeade, where they managed to sit at the same table in public and have a relatively civil, though rather stiff, conversation. They were obviously uncomfortable, and other students were open with their shock at the sight of the two nemeses drinking butterbeer together, but as time passed, the boy began to offer more than terse nods and the girl began to loosen up.

Most soulmates heal to bond, but _they_ had to break their past misgivings in order to find a place for each other in their hearts. I must admit that up until that moment in the Tower, I hadn't thought it would be possible. They had always seemed so intent on hatred rather than affection, and I'd almost forgotten about the unnaturally violent rattling of my arrows as I stood on the Hogwarts boat so many years ago...

As I watched the young woman give him a genuine smile under the bright lights of the pub, my arrows once more shook in their quiver. This time, I did not deny them of their wish.

I pulled an arrow out and fitted it onto my bow. The boy was talking now, muttering something about ferrets, and she was smiling brilliantly - I pulled back on the string and aimed. He was letting out a brief laugh - I breathed out in anticipation and released the arrow from my fingertips.

The arrow that hit Draco Malfoy's heart couldn't be seen or heard above the chatter, but I know that he and Hermione Granger felt it flutter as it flew past. They _had_ to have felt it. Every battle, every hex, every second they had spent together had, however indirectly, led them to this moment.

And I? I walked away with my bow purring with long overdue satisfaction. My job was done, and it was time for the pair to take on their own weight.


End file.
